Sometimes things don’t go as planned. We all know that. Over three decades ago my daughter Joy and I learned this in spades, vexing her to no end while I felt reassured by developments.
She was a new college graduate, having finished her undergraduate degree in Madison, Wisconsin, a few months after she got really fed up with high-stepping through snow drifts to get to class. She worked that summer in Champaign, Illinois, not far from our home in Danville, and she drove back and forth in an old, faded-blue Oldsmobile Cutlass that she had never taken on a long trip.
Near the end of summer as she was preparing to move to Austin, Texas, to continue her education, she decided over my futile objections to hitch a trailer behind her old Olds and take her things there by herself on a hard two-day drive. I say I objected to her decision because, as she and I had often discussed, I had planned to rent a small truck and drive her to Austin with her things. This was a deep natural instinct on my part to protect my darling daughter as she moved to a new part of the country to a strange place.
I thought Joy’s innate frugality and increasing independence were beyond reason in this case. She was convinced it would be cheaper to rent a small trailer than a truck, plus she wanted to drive her car and do this all by herself. While I worried about her decision, I could not help but admire her moxie.
When moving day came, she headed south to Texas, alone. So I prepared myself for at least two days of constant worry.
While I don’t know the young woman in this photo, it conveys a bit of my unease with Joy heading out alone on her move to Texas. (Sorry, link to photo credit no longer available.)
About two hours after she left she called me from Effingham, quite upset. Her car had overheated with the trailer behind it on the interstate highway and had to be towed to a repair shop. The mechanic found several problems with the engine and it would take over a day to get the parts. He noted the high mileage on the old car and advised Joy not to drive it to Texas.
We quickly agreed that I would drive to Effingham, we would transfer her things into a rental truck, leave her car there for repairs, and I would switch off with her on the long drive ahead. While Joy was greatly disappointed, I had to restrain my happiness that I would make the trip with her, as I had wanted to do all along.
Since late summer was prime moving season, the only rental truck available in Effingham was a 24-footer, far larger than needed for Joy’s move. We had no practical choice but to take it. As we transferred her possessions to the truck, we spread out her boxes and plastic tubs of belongings in a single layer on the floor of the truck bed, along with a few small pieces of furniture and her bicycle. Even spread out this way, there was a lot of bare floor space left in the truck.
Joy found this photo of the transfer of her things. Both sad and funny, isn’t it?
Joy got over her initial disappointment soon after we left Effingham and the move went uneventfully from there. We found interesting new restaurants along the way and I think we both had a good time.
But she continued to fret over the logistics that lay ahead for me. Instead of my flying directly back home, I flew to St. Louis, Missouri, which is considerably closer to Effingham, Illinois, than two connecting flights that landed first in Chicago before I could fly back south to Champaign. So I took a bus from St. Louis to Effingham to retrieve Joy’s car from the repair shop, then drove it back home.
This story is a clear case of a young adult daughter’s desire for independence and a perhaps over-protective father’s desire to shield her against the hazards of the world. Now I can think of countless instances in which Joy and her brother Bob struggled mightily for independence while I struggled mightily to protect them. Inevitably, they won their independence as adults while I had to back away from my hard-wired efforts to protect them.
This is the universal dilemma of parents and children, regardless of their ages. My two children have now been adults for over twenty years, and I still worry about them much as I did when they were young. Silently usually. At arm’s length usually. But always running somewhere in my consciousness.
Watch for stories from growing up on a poor Tennessee farm, moving away, study, travel, parenthood, striving, setbacks, and just crazy stuff! 
earlbrussell 
Earl, have you ever read that book, “I’ll Love You Forever, I’ll Like You For Always?” It’s a children’s book we used to read to our son for years. We could never get through it without crying — now he’s the same way too. It’s a book that illustrates perfectly how we never stop being someone’s child and we never stop being someone’s parent. Tear jerker.
Deb, I’m not familiar with that book. But my children, now adults, may be a bit old for me to read it to them. 🙂 Thanks for mentioning this for parents of young children.
When I was expecting my first child, I kept thinking about being a mother for the rest of my life. I was correct. Good piece. Thanks.
Years ago I heard a psychology professor say, “Parenthood is a permanent condition.” I was a young parent then and I have thought of that remark many times since.
Been there, done that. Now I have reached a stage in life that there is a bit of role reversal. As we left to return home from a visit to my son in North Texas
last weekend, my son told me to “Call as soon as you get home so we know you made the trip safely.” He had a big smile on his face. I hope he was joking but I am not quite sure. 🙂
Bill, sorry to say this, but it’s almost certain your son was serious. Seriously.
What good timing for this story! My college girl will be heading to nowhere, New Mexico, in June for her first real job. Thank goodness her boyfriend is helping her drive out there, otherwise I’d insist we parents go along. I believe they’ll be towing her 10-yr-old car behind a small U-Haul.
Your daughter’s move should go well by towing her old car behind a rental truck. It’s great that her boyfriend will be helping with all that. It’s still hard on parents when their children move away.
I feel so thankful to you for helping me with that move, Dad! I still cringe when I think about the expense and trouble you went through to bail me out of the hole I’d dug for myself. What a lucky daughter I am to have you for a dad!!!
I’m the lucky one.
What a great dad you are. You let her go, even though it must have been so hard. And as much as I’m sure you didn’t want anything to happen to her, it was nice that things worked out so that you could help her make the trip. Personally, I go “fetal” when my children (18 and 23) learn lessons the hard way, but I’m trying to grow up as they do. Great blog. I’m looking forward to reading more.
Thanks for your kind and interesting comment. I’ve been working on the “growing up” thing myself for several decades now. Still have a way to go. 🙂
I will get older, but I’ll never be mature!
Leslie Jo, I have been accused of that too. 🙂
We never stop worrying about our children!!! You were (are) a good father!
Thanks, I hope you’re right. 🙂
We are always parents no matter the age of our children.
Mary, you’ve well expressed a universal truth. Thanks much.